


bittersweet

by bespokenboy



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Angst, Infidelity, M/M, Smut, jeonghan is a jeonghoe, josh is emo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-23
Updated: 2016-08-23
Packaged: 2018-08-10 13:54:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7847656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bespokenboy/pseuds/bespokenboy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jisoo never thought that he would become the jealous type. But if he and Jeonghan were no good at being lovers, they’re even worse at being just friends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	bittersweet

 

~

 

Jeonghan’s hair is short and virgin black the first time they meet, on the first day of high school. 

 

“So  _ you’re _ Jisoo,” Jeonghan says when Jisoo introduces himself to the new kid sitting alone in the cafeteria. “Everybody keeps asking me if I’m Jisoo.”

 

The words are followed by a harsh laugh that sounds somewhere between self-deprecatory and derisive. It tapers off into a melancholy smile as Jeonghan watches Jisoo through his thick eyelashes. 

 

Jisoo quickly learns that everything about Jeonghan is a bittersweet contradiction. His words and expressions are always in conflict, and he’s capable of saying the most vitriolic things with a cloying smile on his face. 

 

~

 

Jeonghan’s hair is shoulder length and dyed a rich, chestnut brown when he kisses Jisoo for the first time. It happens when Jisoo’s parents are finalizing their divorce, and they’re too busy hating each other to remember to love Jisoo. By that point, Jeonghan is the only person in the world who makes Jisoo feel like he matters. 

 

From the moment their lips touch for the first time, Jisoo would always be chasing that special warm feeling of being loved by Jeonghan.  

 

~

 

Jisoo will never forget the balmy summer after their second year of friendship. It’s the summer when Jeonghan’s hair is an unforgettable, soft ash blonde; the summer when they decide it isn’t enough to be just friends. 

 

It’s also the summer when Jisoo realizes that Jeonghan is a natural disaster that could destroy him, and Jisoo would let it happen.

 

~

 

By their last year of high school, nobody ever confuses Jeonghan and Jisoo with one another. At eighteen years old, Jeonghan is more popular than ever, among both their male and female classmates. Meanwhile, Jisoo immerses himself in preparing for auditions and entrance exams, and he doesn’t seem to be interested in anyone or anything besides music and Jeonghan.  

 

~

 

Jeonghan’s bright auburn hair is black at the roots when they graduate. Jisoo moves to New York to study cello performance at Juilliard, while Jeonghan stays in Seoul to drift from one part time job to another.

 

As the distance grows between them, their phone calls and messages become increasingly infrequent, until they’re reduced to intermittent apologies for being too busy, mostly on Jisoo’s part. It doesn’t help that Jeonghan begins to subtly accuse Jisoo of not giving him enough attention, only to ignore his phone calls when Jisoo finally does have time to talk.

 

~

 

Jisoo almost doesn’t recognize Jeonghan when he returns from his first year at Juilliard. Jeonghan’s beautiful red hair is dyed a severe stormy gray, and his cheeks are waxy and hollow. 

 

The guilt of finding Jeonghan in such a sickly condition is too much for Jisoo to bear, so he suggests breaking up. Jisoo is sure that Jeonghan resents him for not taking better care of him. 

 

The thing is, Jeonghan doesn’t want to break up, but he doesn’t want to argue with Jisoo either, so he stays silent when Jisoo tells him that they should just be friends.

 

~

 

When people ask Jeonghan why he and Jisoo broke up, his answer changes each time: Jisoo wanted to focus on school; long distance was too difficult; they loved each other, but not enough to make it work. When Jisoo is asked the same question, his excuse is always the same—they’re better off as friends.

 

Jeonghan’s answers are, at least, honest. They both know that Jisoo’s isn’t. 

 

Their phone calls and visits stretch out into nothing during Jisoo’s second year at Juilliard, and within a year of trying to be friends, they end up as total strangers.

 

~

 

A couple days after Jisoo returns to Seoul, he pulls into the parking lot of Lotte to stock his bare pantry. Jisoo strolls listlessly down one aisle and then another, tossing packages of ramen and other instant meals into his shopping cart. The harsh fluorescent lighting and stale, greasy smell of the food court have a dizzying effect on Jisoo, and he just wants to return to his apartment as quickly as possible. 

 

It’s been three weeks since Jisoo graduated from Juilliard, and it’ll be another three weeks before he moves to Berlin to start a new chapter in his life. He hasn’t told anyone but his parents that he’s back in Seoul. There was nobody he was close enough to in high school to bother making plans with, besides Jeonghan. But at this point, Jisoo can’t imagine that anything good could come out of meeting with Jeonghan again, not when they haven’t exchanged a word in over a year. 

 

It might be another year or two before Jisoo can finally come to terms with their break-up. However, fate seems to have other ideas for him. 

 

"Jisoo?"

 

Jisoo's body reacts to the sound of Jeonghan's voice before his mind fully processes what's happening. He freezes, a packet of ramen halfway to his basket. Adrenaline flares in his veins, and he feels like reality is dismantling around the edges. 

 

Jeonghan stares at Jisoo, his eyes wide with shock, and something about his expression wrenches at Jisoo’s heart. Jeonghan's loose black bangs spill into his eyes as he watches Jisoo with breathless anticipation. His fingers twitch like he wants to reach out to touch Jisoo, but he isn't sure if he's allowed to.

 

"Jeonghan," Jisoo says quietly, and just saying his name out loud for the first time in so long makes his chest ache with precisely remembered pain. Breathing is suddenly a tight, painful thing.

 

"It really  _ is _ you," Jeonghan says, and he throws his arms around Jisoo's shoulders, burying his face into his neck. He hugs Jisoo without any trace of self-consciousness, like he’s already distanced himself from all that they’ve been through.

 

Despite the bitter note they parted ways on, Jisoo feels a sweet agony curling around every inch of his body. It hurts, holding onto Jeonghan, but he doesn't want to let go.

 

It isn't until Jisoo feels Jeonghan's thumbs swiping across his cheekbones that he realizes he's crying.

 

"Why didn't you tell me that you were back in Seoul?" Jeonghan asks him. He's smiling sweetly, but there's more than a hint of accusation in his tone.

 

"I'm sorry," Jisoo mumbles, feeling a bizarre sense of deja vu. It seems that the last time he spoke to Jeonghan, it was also to apologize.

 

Jeonghan doesn't press for further explanation. He just sighs deeply and lets his fingertips trail from the back of Jisoo's head to the nape of his neck, down the bumps in his spine.

 

It's pathetic, the way that Jisoo can't seem to peel himself away from Jeonghan's arms, so warm and inviting and painfully familiar. The only thing that stops Jisoo's body from melting into Jeonghan’s is the appearance of a third person in the aisle.

 

"Seungcheol!" Jeonghan exclaims, suddenly brightening at the presence of the man. He grabs Jisoo by the hand and beckons for Seungcheol to approach with his other hand.

 

"Who's this, Jeonghan?" Seungcheol asks. His gaze flits curiously between Jeonghan and Jisoo.

 

Hooking his arm through Jisoo's elbow, Jeonghan says happily, "This is Jisoo! I told you about him, remember? And Jisoo, this is Seungcheol, my boyfriend."

 

The word “boyfriend” punches a hole through Jisoo's chest. For the first time, Jisoo is forced to confront the heartbreak of seeing Jeonghan with someone else, and the excruciating pain of it catches him off guard. 

 

Jisoo realizes suddenly that he's never even considered the possibility that Jeonghan would ever fall in love with anybody but him. Maybe it’s because Jisoo has always believed that he couldn’t ever fall in love with anybody besides Jeonghan.

 

Rather than looking jealous or wary, Seungcheol looks delighted as he offers Jisoo a handshake with both of his hands, inclining his head respectfully.

 

"You're the one who's studying in America, right?" Seungcheol asks.

 

"Was," Jisoo corrects. "I graduated a few weeks ago."

 

Seungcheol's eyes widen. "Wow, congratulations! We should celebrate! Why don't we invite Jisoo over for dinner, Jeonghan?"

 

“Thank you, but that’s really not necessary,” Jisoo tries to intercede.

 

“That’s a great idea!” Jeonghan says. “We’re having steamed crabs tonight, I think there’s more than enough for all of us. You love crabs, don’t you, Jisoo?”

 

He smiles knowingly at Jisoo, who can’t refuse because Jeonghan knows it to be true.

 

“That decides it then!” Seungcheol says. “Why don’t you come over around seven? Jeonghan will give you the address.”

 

“Okay,” Jisoo finds himself agreeing, despite his better judgment. 

 

~

 

The worst part about being invited to have dinner with Jeonghan and Seungcheol is that Jisoo can’t even bring himself to properly hate Jeonghan’s new boyfriend.

 

Everything about Seungcheol just screams wholesome and reliable, and it’s obvious to Jisoo that Seungcheol is exactly the indulgent, self-effacing type of man that would devote his entire life to taking care of Jeonghan. 

 

Seungcheol chats with Jisoo while Jeonghan pokes at the live crabs rattling around in the giant steel pot boiling on the stove. 

 

“It freaks me out when we buy live crabs, so Jeonghan always cooks them for us,” Seungcheol admits with a delicate shudder.

 

He glances over at Jeonghan, who is cackling quietly to himself as he drops another blue shelled crab into the pot with his kitchen tongs. 

 

“He usually doesn’t like to cook, but he really likes doing this for some reason,” Seungcheol observes fondly. 

 

Jisoo laughs uncomfortably. “He really hasn’t changed since we were in high school.”

 

“Oh, that reminds me, I can’t believe Jeonghan was friends with someone like you!”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“From what Jeonghan has told me, it sounds like you were a superstar in high school!”

 

“Well, I wouldn’t say that,” Jisoo says shyly. “Jeonghan was always more popular.”

 

“People only knew me because they knew Jisoo,” Jeonghan chimes in from across the room. “Jisoo always had the best grades in our class, and he even got into Juilliard!” 

 

“See what I mean?” Seungcheol says. “Jeonghan’s always bragging about you.”

 

“If my high school years were a movie, Jisoo was the star,” Jeonghan says with a fond smile.

 

“Don’t say stuff like that,” Jisoo mutters.

 

Seungcheol grins and pours a shot of whiskey for Jisoo, and then another for himself. Jisoo tips the shot into his mouth, letting it slide across his tongue and into his throat. The amber liquid tastes like fire, and it burns hot in his chest like jealousy. 

 

Jisoo listens absently, chuckling now and then as Seungcheol carries on a mostly one-sided conversation with him. His laugh comes out airy and anxious to his own ears, but Seungcheol doesn’t seem to notice. 

 

Self-loathing and insecurity are constantly chasing each other around in circles in Jisoo’s mind, but being around Jeonghan and Seungcheol is making it even worse. 

 

“If you'll please excuse me for a moment, I need to use the bathroom,” Jisoo says suddenly, desperate for a chance to break away, to mute all the excess noise crowding his brain. 

 

He stands up a little too swiftly, and black fractals crawl in the corners of his vision. He blinks until his sight returns to normal and then heads towards the bathroom to splash cold water on his face. 

 

Everywhere, he finds evidence that Jeonghan and Seungcheol are in a stable, long term relationship, from the vacation photos hanging in the hallway to the identical pair of toothbrushes by the sink. The thought that Jeonghan could move on so thoroughly after everything they had been through lodges another knife deep into Jisoo’s ribs.

 

When Jisoo returns to the kitchen table, there's a large platter piled high with steamed crabs. He takes a seat across the table from where Jeonghan is cracking the shell of a crab for Seungcheol and just about feeding it to him by hand. Even though the air conditioning is on and pumping cold air through the vents, Jisoo feels like the room is oppressively hot. 

 

“Sorry we don't have any other dishes,” Seungcheol says around a mouthful of crab. “Jeonghan was in charge of the menu today, and he always finds a way to avoid eating vegetables.”

 

Jisoo raises a judgmental eyebrow. “You're seriously still like this? How have you not gotten scurvy by now?”

 

Jeonghan's eyes widen with hurt, but Jisoo knows Jeonghan well enough to recognize when he's acting. 

 

“So what Jeonghan said about you guys being close really was true,” Seungcheol says delightedly, glancing between them in amusement like they're his personal source entertainment. “You guys really are good friends.”

 

“Is that what we are?” Jisoo mutters a little too antagonistically. “Friends?”

 

“Best friends,” Jeonghan corrects. “Jisoo was the first person to approach me when I was the new kid at school, and he’s the one I was always closest to. Jisoo came to all of my football matches, and I went to all of his dorky orchestra concerts. Isn’t that right, Jisoo?”

 

Jisoo nods silently and picks at a crab without looking up at Jeonghan. Seungcheol’s arm is around Jeonghan’s shoulders now, and it hurts more than Jisoo would like to admit. 

 

His entire body goes stiff when Jeonghan reaches across the table and gives Jisoo’s hand a gentle squeeze, a touch that feels like lightning. Jisoo recoils and pulls his hand away. 

 

The look of hurt that flickers across Jeonghan’s expression isn’t acting this time. 

 

Seungcheol seems completely oblivious to the tension pulling tighter and tighter like a violin string as the silence stretches out between them. 

 

“Orchestra, huh? What instrument do you play?” Seungcheol asks, breaking the silence. 

 

“Jisoo can play cello, violin, piano, and oboe,” Jeonghan answers for him. “And he’s good at singing, too.”

 

“That’s impressive,” Seungcheol says. “I don’t know why Jeonghan settled for a no-good guy like me, if he has friends as talented as you.”

 

Jisoo smiles tightly and lets out an anxious little laugh that rings false. Jeonghan keeps his gaze fixed on Jisoo with an eloquent stare that Jisoo doesn’t try to decipher.

 

“You’ve met most of my friends, they’re not all like that,” Jeonghan assures Seungcheol, running a hand up the curve of his bicep. “Only Jisoo.”

 

“Hey, if Jisoo likes singing, why don’t we invite him the next time we go for karaoke?” Seungcheol suggests.

 

“That’s a great idea,” Jeonghan agrees. “Jisoo loved karaoke in high school. I bet that karaoke in New York isn’t as fun as it is in Korea, right, Jisoo?”

 

“I never went,” Jisoo says. 

 

“Then you should definitely come with us,” Seungcheol decides.

 

Jisoo hesitates for a moment and then says, “I’m not staying in Korea for very long.”

 

Jeonghan’s eyebrows pinch together. “What do you mean?”

 

“I won a cello opening in the Berlin Philharmonic. All of my stuff has been sent to Germany already, and I’ll be going there soon too.”

 

“That’s really, really great,” Seungcheol says with a genuine smile that Jisoo doesn’t think he deserves.

 

“You just keep moving ahead, don’t you?” Jeonghan says, and his voice is edged with a different emotion that sounds far from congratulatory. He’s smiling too, but there’s something hard and abrasive in his eyes. 

 

_ I’m moving ahead, but I can’t move on _ , Jisoo thinks. 

 

~

 

After dinner comes Seungcheol offering Jisoo drinks like a pushy uncle. Jisoo’s ability to refuse declines with the number of shots he’s knocked back, and at some point he even manages to feel like he’s having fun, even though he’s probably not. 

 

While Seungcheol matches Jisoo shot for shot and then some, Jeonghan takes only a few tepid sips of soju mixed with beer. Seungcheol brags about the strength of his liver, despite Jeonghan’s nagging that it really isn’t something to be proud of. At some point, Seungcheol tips a shot into the back of his throat, and his head just stays lolled over the back of his chair. 

 

“Was nice meeting you, Jisoo,” Seungcheol mumbles drunkenly, looking at Jisoo with a dopey grin. 

 

Seungcheol’s hand grapples blindly for the bottle of whiskey, but Jeonghan slides it away from his reach.

 

“That’s enough, Seungcheol,” Jeonghan says firmly, the corners of his mouth pressed down in disapproval.

 

Seungcheol pouts and then he slurs, “Thanks for taking good. Care of Jeonghan. I’ll take good care of. Him. Trust me.”

 

“Take care of yourself first,” Jeonghan says, clearly displeased by the sloppy, lethargic change in Seungcheol’s speech pattern. 

 

Seungcheol nods lazily. “Wanna stay the night, Jisoo?”

 

“I’ll take a cab back,” Jisoo says. His face is flushed, but he has far better control of his faculties than Seungcheol does. 

 

“But you drove here, Jisoo,” Jeonghan points out. “It’ll be too inconvenient to come back here tomorrow to get your car again.”

 

“Oh, right.”

 

Jisoo frowns as he tries to come up with a solution, but he’s too inebriated to focus his thoughts.

 

Jeonghan smirks at Jisoo’s expression of intense concentration. “How about I drive you home, Jisoo?” he suggests gently.

 

“That. That is a good idea. I think,” Jisoo says.

 

Jeonghan ruffles Seungcheol’s hair and says, “Hear that? I’m going to drive Jisoo home, and then I’ll take a cab back. You go on to bed without me.”

 

Seungcheol nods, but his eyes are closed already, and Jisoo is doubtful of his ability to make it to the bedroom on his own.

 

“I love you,” Seungcheol drawls. “Come home safely.”

 

Jeonghan kisses Seungcheol, and Jisoo feels like he’s punched into his chest and ripped his heart out. 

 

~

 

The car ride is quiet, with Jisoo communicating with Jeonghan only to give him directions. Jeonghan’s total focus on driving keeps the silence from being awkward. 

 

“Here we are,” Jisoo says when they reach the apartment complex where he’s staying temporarily while he’s in Korea.

 

Jeonghan cuts the engine, and then he teases, “Need help getting up?”

 

“No,” Jisoo says stubbornly, but Jeonghan helps him out anyways, walking Jisoo all the way to his front door.

 

Jisoo thanks Jeonghan for driving him, and there’s a brief awkward moment where Jisoo isn’t sure if he should hug Jeonghan before they part ways. But Jeonghan just follows Jisoo into his apartment and makes himself at home like he’s entitled to do so.

 

Without even asking Jisoo for permission, Jeonghan puts a kettle on the stove to make tea. He even lights a cinnamon scented candle, a housewarming present Jisoo forgot he had. With the pleasantly spicy glow of cinnamon warming the kitchen and Jeonghan navigating Jisoo’s cupboards for clean mugs, Jisoo’s apartment feels like home for the first time. 

 

“Here you go,” Jeonghan says, handing Jisoo a mug of piping hot tea.

 

The steam wafts across Jisoo’s skin in a way that’s redolent of cozy winter afternoons spent huddled over homework, even though it’s the middle of summer and it’s been years since he and Jeonghan have studied together.

 

They sit across from each other, their knees crowded under the cramped table. Jisoo sips carefully at the scalding tea, inhaling its malty flavor. It burns hot in his throat, like Seungcheol’s whiskey, or jealousy. 

When Jisoo looks up, Jeonghan is watching him with a wistful look in his eyes, his own tea untouched. A sweet, sad feeling seizes Jisoo’s lungs, and it reminds him that sometimes, just breathing is difficult enough. 

“I was hoping we could talk,” Jeonghan says quietly.

 

Jisoo nervously smooths his hands over his lap. “About what?” he asks warily. 

 

“About everything. Or anything, really. I don’t know.”

 

Jisoo doesn’t say anything, and Jeonghan sighs, sounding incredibly exhausted.

 

“I thought that we were close enough to be friends again, even after everything,” Jeonghan says. “What happened?”

 

Bringing up their past so suddenly twists Jisoo’s stomach into knots. 

 

“I don’t think we could ever be just friends,” Jisoo says with a painful, raw honesty.

 

Jisoo is terrified of falling in love with Jeonghan again. It scares him more than anything else he’s ever been afraid of. But Jisoo knows that even trying to be friends with Jeonghan will put his feelings in danger. 

 

The hurt in Jeonghan’s expression gives way to resignation. He ducks his head and nods, letting his hair spill into his face.

 

“I missed you so much these last couple of years,” Jeonghan says, and his voice sounds scratchier than before. His face is still hidden by his hair. 

 

“I’ve missed you since the day I met you,” Jisoo mumbles.

 

Jeonghan combs his hair back with his fingers, letting out a wry little scoff. “That doesn’t make any sense, Jisoo.”

 

Jisoo shrugs and lets the last few tepid drops of tea trickle into his mouth. 

 

“I still miss you, Jisoo-ah.”

 

Jeonghan is smiling now, with his chin resting on the heel of his palm and a fingertip caught between his teeth. His luminous eyes are teasing, unrepentant. 

 

“No, you don’t,” Jisoo says bluntly.

 

“But I  _ do _ ,” Jeonghan whines. “You never call, and you ignore my messages. I miss you so much. I love you.”

 

“No. You  _ don’t _ ,” Jisoo tells him emphatically, like he’s trying to convince himself more than he’s trying to convince Jeonghan. 

 

_ I don’t love you I don’t love you I don’t love you _ Jisoo says to himself like a mantra, as if repeating it will make it true. And then he says it out loud. “I don’t love you.”

 

Jeonghan blinks at him once and says, “I know.”

 

Jisoo wrenches his gaze away from Jeonghan and says hoarsely, “You should head back before your boyfriend gets worried.”

 

“Don't worry, Seungcheol isn't the type to get jealous.”

 

“I wasn't talking about—that's not what I meant.”

 

“Are  _ you _ jealous?” Jeonghan asks quietly, watching Jisoo intently to probe his veiled expression.

 

“Who said anything about jealousy?” Jisoo mutters, picking at his fingernails. 

 

“Well, I hope you realize that  _ I’m _ jealous,” Jeonghan says offhandedly. 

 

A tiny smile curls the corner of Jeonghan’s mouth when he sees Jisoo’s eyes dart suddenly to his face. 

 

“I’m jealous of everyone who gets to see you everyday,” Jeonghan explains. “And I’m jealous of everyone who you care about as much as you used to care about me.”

 

Jisoo wants to tell Jeonghan that he still cares about him, and there’s nobody that could ever compare to Jeonghan, but the words get caught in his throat. 

 

Jeonghan takes his mug of lukewarm tea and drinks it all at once. He smacks his lips and says, “I think I might head back now. Since you clearly didn’t want to see me while you’re here in Korea, I’m guessing that I won’t be seeing you again anytime soon.”

 

Jeonghan stands up to leave, but Jisoo catches him by the sleeve.

 

In his raw state, Jisoo gives him a frantic and anguished reply. “Please don’t go.”

 

Jeonghan’s eyes widen in a moment of genuine shock at Jisoo’s sudden honesty.

 

“I have to go back to take care of my boyfriend,” Jeonghan says, but he doesn’t do anything to dislodge Jisoo’s fingers curled in the fabric of his shirt.

 

“I don’t like that guy,” Jisoo says. He figures that he has nothing left to lose, because he’s already lost Jeonghan.

 

“But he takes such good care of me,” Jeonghan says archly, and his words dig into Jisoo’s guilty conscience like the fresh pain of abusing an old bruise. 

 

“I know,” Jisoo admits. “But I still don’t like the idea of you with him.”

 

Jeonghan lets out a heavy exhale, intermingled with a bitter chuckle. He closes his eyes for a moment. When he opens his eyes, he lets his gaze slide lazily to where Jisoo is watching him with a pained expression. 

 

“You don’t want me, but you don’t want anyone else to have me, either,” Jeonghan sighs. 

 

“You know that’s not true,” Jisoo says in a low voice, and he gets slowly to his feet without letting go of Jeonghan or breaking eye contact.

 

They both feel it—the seismic shift between them, like the fragile ground could fracture beneath their feet at any second. 

 

Jeonghan reaches out to tuck a strand of hair behind Jisoo’s ear.

 

“If it’s not true,” Jeonghan whispers, “then prove it.”

 

Jeonghan is caressing the tip of Jisoo’s earlobe as the words trickle in. Jisoo almost certain at this point that Jeonghan wants to kiss him, though not as much as Jisoo wants to kiss Jeonghan.

 

Despite how wrong it is, all of it, everything, Jisoo can’t help himself. He steps closer until he’s breathing Jeonghan’s air. For a deliciously forbidden moment, all that exists is the soft fullness of Jeonghan’s lips and the gentle stick of their mouths as Jisoo closes the space between them.

 

Kissing Jeonghan is like talking, an extension of their conversation, but at some point there’s a full stop where there should be a comma and Jisoo maybe dies a little bit, conscious thought vanishing from his mind completely in that moment.

 

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” Jisoo whispers harshly when he pulls away.

 

“You’re right,” Jeonghan says, and then he closes his eyes and cradles Jisoo’s jaw in his hands as he kisses him again. 

 

Jisoo surrenders himself to Jeonghan and kisses him back, feeling both an aching familiarity and an illicit thrill. He runs his fingers through Jeonghan’s hair and feels the slight dampness from sweat at the roots, and it’s somewhat satisfying, the realization that Jeonghan is just as overwrought as he is. 

 

When Jeonghan breaks away to gasp for air, his hair is disheveled, and his eyes are poring over Jisoo’s face. Inwardly, Jisoo is trying to convince himself that nothing good will come out of this, that he needs to stop. But already, he’s failing. 

 

“Your body remembers me,” Jeonghan says when he feels the beginning of an erection digging into his thigh. There’s an insufferably smug smirk dancing on his lips.

 

“Shut up,” Jisoo says, silencing Jeonghan’s creaky laughter by crushing his lips against Jeonghan’s mouth. Jeonghan shows no teeth, only lips, as he kisses him back tenderly.

 

Kissing Jeonghan is more intoxicating than anything imaginable. Jisoo goes completely pliant in Jeonghan’s arms, letting him lead them to the bedroom, where Jeonghan begins disrobing Jisoo and then himself. 

 

Jisoo sprawls out on his bedsheets, and Jeonghan’s eyes pass over delicate stretches of skin, from the exquisite line of his throat to Jisoo’s pale, milky thighs. Jeonghan spreads his fingers against Jisoo’s body with a proprietary kind of touch. His hands map out the surface of Jisoo’s body, all the dips and curves and points of sensitivity. The spread of Jeonghan’s touch is warm and gentle, nothing rough or hurried about it. Jisoo almost forgot how it felt to be touched like this, like he’s something precious.

 

Jeonghan bites his lip, and then his fingernails rake bright red tracks down Jisoo’s skin. Jisoo makes a shocked, strangled noise at the sudden change in sensation, but he’s even more startled by how good it feels.

 

“Fuck,” Jisoo hisses. 

 

“You’re so sexy, Jisoo,” Jeonghan murmurs, tracing the curve of Jisoo’s cheek with his knuckles.

 

“No, I’m not,” Jisoo says, but he allows Jeonghan to gather him into his lap.

 

It’s Jeonghan’s favorite position, Jisoo straddling Jeonghan’s thighs as he reaches behind to loosen himself before riding Jeonghan’s lap. Jisoo threads his fingers through Jeonghan’s hair and presses their foreheads together, and they breathe the same hot, shallow air for a sultry few seconds before their lips are on each other again. 

 

Jisoo holds onto Jeonghan’s shoulders for support as he rocks his hips in smooth gyrations at first, and then in quick, desperate thrusts as tension coils tight in his belly. Jeonghan keeps a firm grasp on Jisoo’s hips so tight that it leaves pink and white imprints on Jisoo’s skin. 

 

Jeonghan’s hand works Jisoo over the edge, until a shudder runs through Jisoo’s body in tight spasms. The sudden pulsing inside of Jisoo tells him that Jeonghan reaches his climax soon afterwards, and he collapses against Jeonghan’s chest, sticky with sweat. 

 

Jisoo’s thoughts are like the flame of a candle, flickering in and out, and exhaustion—both emotional and physical—are like a strong wind trying to blow it out.

 

“What happens if Seungcheol finds out about this?” Jisoo asks finally, his cheek resting against Jeonghan’s shoulder as Jeonghan strokes his hair.

 

Jeonghan pauses and then says, “He’d forgive me.”

 

“You don’t deserve Seungcheol.”

 

“I know.”

 

“Are you going to stay here for the night?” Jisoo asks. He isn’t sure what he wants Jeonghan’s answer to be.

 

“I’m thinking about it. Can I take a shower?”

 

“Yeah, sure.”

 

Jeonghan arches an eyebrow and asks, “Care to join?”

 

“Just go take your shower,” Jisoo scoffs. 

 

“But you’re still on top of me,” Jeonghan points out.

 

Jisoo rolls his eyes and pushes himself away from Jeonghan. He refuses to look at the elegant lines of Jeonghan’s body as he saunters towards the bathroom.

 

The muted, indistinct sound of streaming water is strangely comforting to Jisoo. It distracts him from the demoralizing miasma of guilt crawling over his entire body. Jisoo suddenly feels filthy, like he could also use a shower to wash away the evidence of his debasement. 

 

Jeonghan emerges from the bathroom a few minutes later with only a towel wrapped around his waist, his hair still dripping with water. His skin is glowing with a sheen of moisture, and for a moment, Jisoo allows himself to appreciate the lean muscles flowing in Jeonghan’s abdomen and back.

 

Jisoo rises from the mattress to take his own turn in the shower. The cascades of warm water falling onto his skin helps Jisoo clear his mind a bit, and he thinks about what he’ll say to Jeonghan when he gets out of the shower. Jisoo decides that he’ll wish Jeonghan goodnight and maybe let himself pretend that he’ll see him again in the morning. 

  
When Jisoo comes out of the bathroom, Jeonghan is already gone, and Jisoo doesn’t get the chance to say goodnight. Jisoo doesn’t know what he expected. He stretches out on his wrinkled bedsheets and stares out the window at the pallid moon, trying to convince himself it’s better this way.


End file.
